Someone who cares
by mOoNeChO666
Summary: Code Veronica. Steve's feelings as he is forced to do away with his Father. Rated PG13 for the bad words... In any case R&R please -


Note: I'm kinda behind in the Resident Evil times, and only bought and started playing Code Veronica last week – and I've not exactly had time to play it or I probably would have gotten further than this. So if I've missed something – DO NOT flame me and tell me politely and nicely like my reviewers of my PSO fanfic are doing… (me and my mistakes…)

Anyway, this was round about the time I stopped disliking Steve (he went from being an arrogant Son of a Bitch, to the guy who saved me from that psycho Alfred's twisted yellow thingy… And if you want to know, I only got this far yesterday, and died having run out of bullets and encountering more yellow thingies!! I'm a professional at these games y'see :P…

I didn't know what to think.

We'd just fallen through the floorboards on the run through the Ashford guys "playground", passed the Zombies and those yellow head - crushing monster things. It'd sound crazy to say it was sorta fun, they where no match for me and the great new guns Claire got for me.

I got up before she did – well, it was gonna happen wasn't it? What – with her foot jammed and all, and she looks up and screams:

"Steve! Behind you!!"

I'm like 'Alright!! Another one to bite the dust!!' and I spin around and my aims perfect, and then I freeze.

I couldn't let Claire see me cry.

I couldn't show her any weakness.

But it was so god – damned hard, and my eyes watered, and I felt suddenly nauseated. The Zombie in question didn't seem to have the same reaction as I did – which hurt me so much, although hardly surprising.

The first thing I noticed, was the tag around his neck. Almost the exact same as mine.

A kinda chubby sorta guy – he'd always sworn he'd go on a diet – but he never did, a guy who wanted the only the best for his wife and son. And even had the guts to go against and sell information against Umbrella. He was 52 years old. Kinda ancient – I know, but still too young to die, or for what happened to him.

My Dad had died, probably murdered by the same bastards that had allowed him to turn into one of those Zombies, and he was walking towards me, arms outstretched, and it was obvious it wasn't for a Father – Son hug.

He didn't even recognize me. Steve Burnside – his only son, seventeen years old who had a fascination with guns. And that hurt that he couldn't tell his only child from a meal.

"Steve – what's wrong? Shoot him!" Claire was calling at me from the ground, but I couldn't – I knew it'd be the right thing to do – that my Father would rather die than live as a mutated freak of science.

"I – I can't!" I wanted to cry so badly, but I couldn't do it in front of Claire, and I couldn't even feel my arms. I could see 'em, they where right up in front of me, holding up my guns towards Father, my body seemed to tell me different than my eyes. My whole body had gone numb, and I felt I couldn't shoot this man – he was my Father for Christ's sake! Even if he was a Zombie, it didn't change the fact that I was handed to this man only seconds after I was born, that he cared for me when I was a kid, taught me the difference between right and wrong, taught me to stand up for myself.

I stepped back, I was scared, I felt like a stupid little kid without his parents. I closed my eyes. I dunno why I did that. Maybe I just thought if I could wish him away if I concentrated hard enough or something. In any case, that's what I did. Steve the Coward stepped back and hid away from the scary man coming to get him.

But when Claire screamed, I knew it wasn't me he was coming to get, and my eyes flew open. I didn't know if it was because she was nearer or that perhaps he did recognize me, but had to do his Zombie thing first. He was hunched over her, Claire trying to defend herself, pushing him away with her arms.

I knew I had to do it then. Claire was alive, a pure blooded human woman, and I could never live with myself if I had let him do anything to change that.

"Father!! No!!" I hadn't even realized that I'd began shooting, and in that time, I had not taken a single breath. I felt weightless as I saw him twisting and thrashing when the bullets hit him, and when my guns clicked out of ammo, I didn't want to stop. I knew I'd wasted so many bullets on overkill. But it wasn't enough.

I was shaking. Claire looked up at me and I saw my reflection in her eyes. Wide eyed, open mouthed, like a scared little boy. The tears just slipped out after that and I didn't care anymore. I had just shot and killed the only living memory of my Father. And I burst into tears, I didn't care that Claire had witnessed this, or heard my sobbing. Let her, I didn't give a damn.

But she did. She cared that I was sad, and after she had gotten herself free, she hugged me. I didn't notice at first. I just at one point realized that Claire's arms where around me, and they where warm.

I have had this thing about trust – and the truth is – I thought I'd been stung too many times to trust again. But why had I trusted Claire? I even risked my ass to come and save her. Ok, she'd saved me from roasting alive, which I guess proved me wrong in my belief that no – one comes to your rescue but your own skills. She'd come to mine. I guess that maybe she cared.

Someone who cares – ha!


End file.
